


Make Me Wanna

by ThoseDaysThatWill



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Jake is like a welcome basket, M/M, Winnipeg Jets, this is pretty fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-15 05:24:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18492250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThoseDaysThatWill/pseuds/ThoseDaysThatWill
Summary: On February 25, 2019, Nathan Beaulieu was traded to the Winnipeg Jets.“Um, playing with Zach Bogosian… I know you guys are familiar with… he… he kinda sent a couple texts, introduced me to a couple guys, so it’s been an easy transition so far.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The quote in the summary is from a [real interview](https://www.nhl.com/jets/video/pregame--nathan-beaulieu/t-277437442/c-66269903).
> 
> The title is a Thomas Rhett song.

Nate knew full well that when you ask for a trade, guys on the team you’re asking to be traded _from_ tend to resent you. He didn’t regret the request though, because he wanted to _play_ not watch. He wanted to go to a team that actually _needed_ him. But he didn’t expect his teammates to be nice about it. So, when the trade happened at the deadline, he didn’t expect (or get) any teary goodbyes.

What did get, though, was a long series of texts, from what was both a likely and unlikely source. Zach had a bit of a reputation, and Nate had played with him a little, but he wouldn’t have exactly called him a _good_ friend. However, he did fill a _certain_ role on the team, and he did a _very_ good job of it. The texts were _very_ useful and _very_ welcome.

(Spelling, grammar, and shorthand edited for clarity, please don’t think Zach texts this neatly.)

  * Text 1. _It’s been a couple years since I’ve been there, but here’s some info I think is still true._
  * Text 2. _Blake is your captain. He learned from one of the best.  He’s the real deal. When in doubt, ask him, he knows everyone’s business. And he’ll tell you._
  * Text 3. _Last I heard, you can still ride that train, but that might have changed. He’s got something complicated from before. I didn’t go there. Tread carefully if you do._
  * Text 4. _Jake will try for you the minute you get there. You’re his type. He’s very good, but he has a LOT of drama. Avoid if you can, but don’t be surprised if you can’t. I couldn’t._
  * Text 5. _If he’s off the market by now, I won’t be shocked. If that still doesn’t stop him from going after you, I’ll be even less shocked. If you go there, watch out for his boy, I think he could be dangerous._
  * Text 6. _Benny is a great time, but don’t expect more than that. You will. DON’T._
  * Text 7. _Buff is too much for you. Don’t say I didn’t warn you._
  * Text 8. _I should probably mention some forwards, too… I don’t know if you go that way…_
  * Text 9. _Mark… really good guy, but no play there. Don’t even try._
  * Text 10. _Adam used to be fun, but from what I’ve seen, not anymore. His boy looks excitable._
  * Text 11. _Matti isn’t your speed and you’ll just embarrass yourself if you try. Yes, he knows he’s hot. No, you won’t get anywhere by telling him._
  * Text 12. _Same with Bryan. Not saying you can’t try, but I’ll be surprised if you even get a second look not to mention any play._
  * Text 13. _I think those are all the guys I know. Let me know if you need any more help. I’ll be letting Blake know you’re coming and that you’re a good guy, so don’t prove me wrong._
  * Text 14. _Good luck._



Nate was surprised to find that despite the fact Zach hadn’t been on the team for a while, his information, for the most part, proved true. He liked his new captain right away and found that he really could ask him almost anything and get an honest answer. He cracked jokes and chirped him and overall made him feel really welcome. But at the same time, somehow it felt weird trying to get with him. He didn’t think he was the type to bed the new guy anyway. (He wasn’t _exactly_ right about that, but he didn’t find that out until later.)

He picked out the guys that Zach had said were out of his league and in the span of his first practice, he completely agreed with the assessment. And he was also right about Adam’s boy being excitable. It wasn’t _Nate’s_ fault he had been flirted with and that hit was _hard_ and not incidental. Ben did look like fun, and Nate had a vague sense that he’d met him before. (Maybe more than just _met_ , but Nate’s time in the Q was a blur.) But Ben also seemed completely preoccupied with someone else, and it didn’t seem like anyone was welcome to step in there, so he didn’t try. (For the record, he did later discover that Dustin was _absolutely_ too much for him, but that was half the fun of it.) And then there was Jake.

“So, I guess you’re mine, right?” Those were the first words Jake said to him, striding up to him in the locker room, wearing a smirk that announced exactly how much trouble he was. Nate had been introduced around a little, but he wasn’t the only new acquisition, and he was certainly not the biggest name of the bunch. So, the fact that he had been mostly ignored was to be expected. He didn’t mind though; it gave him a chance to get the lay of the land himself first. Jake clearly had other ideas.  

Nate just looked at him, “Excuse me?”

He held his hand out, “Jake Trouba. You’re my new partner.”

“Nate Beaulieu,” He replied, shaking the offered hand. “What happened to your old partner?” By the look on his face, Nate wondered if he’d eaten him alive.

“Broken. Looks like for a while. You ever been in the top pair?” He asked, still smirking.

He knew that ‘not often’ was the absolute worst thing he could say to someone like him. Nate wasn’t new to the league, he wasn’t even new to being traded. He knew full well he couldn’t be the one to blink first with this kind of guy, not if he wanted respect. “Yeah, in Montreal.” That was true, or at least true enough for him. A _lot_ of things had happened in Montreal.

“That wasn’t where we got you from.” Jake pointed out.

“ _That’s_ why you got me.” Nate countered, with a smirk of his own. That earned him a laugh from Jake, and in that moment, Nate knew _exactly_ what Zach had meant in his texts about him.

So he honestly wasn’t all that surprised when Jake offered to help him _celebrate_ his first points (two assists in one game was big news for him in general, even more on a new team) as a Jet. It was their third game paired together, his third game as a Jet, and the first time he really felt like he’d contributed to the win. He _liked_ playing with Jake, it felt good, they meshed together well, so why shouldn’t he accept his invitation.

Mark pulled him aside as they were leaving. “I just want to make sure you understand what you’re getting into…” His tone wasn’t accusing, but there was something behind the words that Nate couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“What do you mean?” He asked, even if he knew _exactly_ what he meant. This wasn’t the first time he’d been in the middle of something that might have been _something_ and might have been _nothing_ , because two idiots couldn’t make up their minds. It probably wouldn’t be the last.

Mark sighed, “You’re _new_ here. And there’s a lot of… _history_ … with him and you might be stepping into something that you don’t… _really_ know about, because you’re _new_. And I don’t want you to get… _hurt_.”

Nate wanted to point out that was just a really fun runaround with a bonus vague threat, but somehow it seemed wrong to be rude to this guy, like backtalking a priest or something. It was weird and he didn’t like it. Blake was a guy you could be yourself with, even after knowing him a week, but this guy? Nate felt like he was supposed to stand up straight and not use inappropriate language.

“Uh… thanks.” He said, because he felt like that was what he was supposed to say, “But… if he’s _offering…_ their issues aren’t my fault.”

Mark sighed again. Nate had a feeling he did that a lot. “No, they’re not. But _maybe_ you don’t want to get in the _middle_ of them?”

He had phrased it like a question, but Nate knew he wasn’t supposed to answer it truthfully. It was really weird being talked down to by a guy that couldn’t have been much older than him, if at all. (He’d find out later they were almost exactly the same age.) It wasn’t a patronizing talking down, though, it was more of a dad-talk. He was talking down, but it was because he _actually_ cared. Which made it even weirder.

“Uh yeah... _maybe_.” Nate replied, just to get himself out of the conversation as fast as possible. A third sigh from Mark confirmed just how often he did that. But he let him go without any more vague threats.

Within two hours, Jake was in his bed.

Nate told him he could spend the night, but he said he had to get back to his room. As he watched him get dressed, Nate couldn’t help but think back on Zach’s texts. He was right about the fact that Jake would go after him. He was right about how he was utterly unavoidable. And he was right about how good he was. Which then made him worry if he was also right about other things, too.

“So, should I watch my back next practice?” He asked.

Jake looked up from tying his shoes, “Why?”

“Zach said your boy can be dangerous.”

He laughed, “ _My boy?_ What does Zach know about my boy?” He shook his head, “You don’t need to worry. I don’t have a _boy_ and Andrew knows where we stand.”

_Uh huh, Zach was right again_ , he thought. But aloud he said, “So I’m not going to get speared in _uncomfortable_ places during practice?”

Jake snorted, “I’ll make sure you don’t. I need you not broken. At least until Josh gets back.”

“Am I filling in for him _here,_ too?”

Jake rolled his eyes, “You sure as hell ask a lot of questions.”

“It’s a character flaw.”

“See if you can work on that for next time.” Jake tossed a smirk over his shoulder before letting himself out of the hotel room.

Nate fished his phone out of the pocket of his discarded pants. He sent a text: _I hate that you were right._

It took a few minutes for the reply to come back: _It took a whole week? Impressive._

Nate barely resisted the urge to throw his phone across the room, but instead texted back: _Fuck you_.

The laughing emoji Zach sent back didn’t improve his mood.


	2. Chapter 2

The first time Nate made him squeak, it was an accident.

He had been bent over his skates after a particularly grueling practice. They’d lost particularly badly the night before and somehow his laces had knotted themselves (it wasn’t _his_ fault either) in ways that he couldn’t seem to undo. While those two things were unrelated, he was cursing them both as he picked at the strands trying to figure out the knot. Yanking hard on one side, the lace slipped through his hand and momentum sent his fist flying right into the teammate unfortunate enough to be sitting next to him.

And he _squeaked_.

Nate just stared at him. Jack may have been younger than him, but a grown ass man should _not_ make that sound. And furthermore, the sheepish smile that he was offered afterwards sent a reaction _directly_ to his crotch and that was as equally ridiculous. He had never been one to find that look attractive, but on Jack? It really worked. Maybe because he had a feeling that he wasn’t _usually_ quite that shy.

“Sorry ‘bout that, you okay?” Nate offered. “Where’d I get you?”

Jack rubbed his cheek, but he smiled, “In my face. But I’m fine.”

Nate didn’t point out that in order for him to have hit him in the face, Jack would have had to be looking at him, but he sure as hell _thought_ it. It added to the smirk he flashed, “I didn’t mess up your good looks, don’t worry.”

He laughed, “You’d have to hit me a _lot_ harder.” He snapped his attention back to his skates, probably because he realized he had said that out loud and hadn’t meant to.

Nate burst out laughing, “Well, _that’s_ true, you got ‘em to spare.” He lowered his voice, leaning in to be heard, “But now you’ve got me wondering what I’d have to do to get you to squeak like that again.”

“I didn’t squeak!” He protested, but his voice rose at the end of that sentence into something that _might_ have even been called a squeak itself. By the look on his face, he heard it, too.

Nate flashed him another smirk and turned his attention back to his skates. It might have just been his imagination, but he thought he heard Jack whimper at that.

The second time Nate made him squeak, it was very much on purpose.

Practice the day after a win was much lighter and more fun. The room was full of laughing and chirping and balls of tape being thrown in every direction. Jack stood with his back to the room, facing Andrew, arguing some inane point in the Michigan-Ohio rivalry that only they cared about. (Nate had only been there a couple weeks, and even he had picked up on that one.) Everything about Jack’s body language said that he was positive he was right, and he was going to prove it whether Andrew liked it or not. He had stopped in the middle of changing out of his gear and was shaking his elbow pad at him to emphasize his point. Whatever Andrew had said must have been calculated to purposefully rouse that kind of anger, judging by his expression.

Nate wasn’t sure how long he’d been watching them argue when he met Andrew’s eyes over Jack’s shoulder. He’d been caught staring and now he had to do something about it before he was called out. (For some _weird_ reason, Andrew didn’t like him. He had _no_ idea why.) Nate took the couple steps towards them as silently as he could and reached out to pinch the bare skin of Jack’s side just above the top of his hockey pants.

The resulting squeak stopped every conversational the room.

Jack whipped around, his eyes flashing, “Fucking son of a bitch!”

Nate was laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe. Every time he thought he had regained his composure, he dared to look at Jack. The murderous fury on his face started the laughter all over again. Nate managed catch his breath enough to gasp out, “Such _language_.”

Jack had both hands on his hips and his eyes narrowed to slits, “I’ll get you back. You know that, right? I’ll fuckin’ get you back.”

Nate had finally found a way to stop laughing, as the conversations around the room slowly began to pick up again, with many head-shakes from their teammates. He stepped a little closer to Jack, dropping his voice, “I look forward to it.” Without another word, he turned back to his stall to finish changing out of his gear, leaving Jack to be the one to stare after him.

The third time Nate made him squeak, they were in public.

Being on the road in LA meant there was an unlimited number of places that they could go where no one knew who they were or cared what they were doing. Everyone knew of at least one good, discrete club with loud music and low lighting. It was always on everyone’s list of favorite road cities. And Nate was no exception to this, despite the fact he’d spent his career up to that point in the Eastern Conference.

He hadn’t fought since before Christmas, and that night’s fight had been short and painful, but all the same, he didn’t regret it. He had done what needed to be done, and they won the game. If one had to do with the other, he couldn’t say for sure. But he couldn’t say it didn’t help either. (Being sat the next two games did make him wonder, though.) A couple teammates did buy him a drink later that night, so at least they thought he had the right intentions.

He was halfway through drink number three when Jack slipped up beside him. Judging by the pink in his cheeks, he’d had a few too, and he didn’t hold his liquor as well as Nate did. He stood close because that was the only way to be heard over the pulsingly loud music.

“Nice fight,” Jack lied.

Nate snorted, “Thanks.”

“You dance?” He gestured out to what wanted to be called a dancefloor but was more accurately termed a small mass of bodies vaguely moving at the same rhythm, some in pairs, some not.  

Nate shrugged, “I’ve been known to.”

“You wanna?”

Nate shot the last of his drink down and placed his glass on the bar, “Can you keep up?”

Jack made a face, “With you? Are you kidding?”

A slow smirk crossed Nate’s lips, “Was that a challenge?”

Jack’s eyes flashed, “Hell yes, it is.” He brushed past Nate as he headed for the dancefloor, “Come find me.” And with that, he disappeared into the mass of people.

Nate hadn’t expected that and took a deep breath against the sudden surge of lust it created. He followed Jack in, but between the dark lighting and mass of bodies, he was nowhere to be seen. He felt a few people try to dance with him and was almost insulted by the insinuation. If he hadn’t been so single-mindedly focused in the moment, he would have enjoyed it. He used to. Instead he brushed them off.

It was a few minutes before he caught sight of his green t-shirt. He was moving to the beat of the music, but on his own. Nate watched for a moment as Jack looked intently through the crowd for him. Instead of meeting him directly, he slipped up behind him and wrapped both arms around his waist. “Found you,” He growled beside his ear.

The squeak was covered by the music, but Nate heard it all the same.

Jack tried to cover by grinding back against him to the beat of the music, and Nate wasn’t complaining. He released his grip enough that they could both find a comfortable rhythm to dance to. Nate quickly found out that not only could he keep up, Jack was better than he was. A lot better. But Nate wasn’t against using a few dirty tricks to tip the scales. He slipped a hand up under Jack’s shirt, sliding across the bare skin of his stomach. He smirked, feeling Jack falter a little and press back against him. Though he couldn’t see it, had a feeling Jack’s eyes were closed. He let his hand slide a little further south, not _nearly_ enough for what Jack was asking for, but the tension was crackling between them.

Nate lost track of how long they spent on that dancefloor, of how many times the brought each other close, but not close _enough_. It became a game, a give and go. Neither was willing to admit defeat, to blink first. They had both played a full hockey game and now felt like they’d just played another one. If anyone in the crowd had tried to step in, they neither noticed nor cared.

It was the moment that Jack turned around, to face him, that everything changed. He met Nate’s eyes and they both felt their steps falter. He reached up to side his hand into the damp curls at the back of Jack’s neck. The feeling, the current that flowed through both of them as their lips met was _electric_. Nate pulled him even closer, pushing his tongue into his mouth, letting himself get fully consumed by the kiss. Jack let both of his hands settle on Nate’s ass, holding on tight. It earned him a low moan.

The elbow that knocked into his back snapped Nate back into reality. He didn’t know if it had been accidental or not, but in the moment, he didn’t care enough to go find out. He stepped away from Jack enough to lead him out of the crowd, to an unoccupied shadowy corner. He leaned in to whisper beside his ear, “If I ask you to come back to my room, are you gonna tell me you’re not that easy?”

Jack laughed, but he was still a little breathless, “Fuck no.”

Nate smirked, “Perfect.”


	3. Chapter 3

If Nate never had to have another one of _those_ talks with Mark for the rest of his Jets career, he would still have suffered through too many of them. He had dealt with Captain’s boys on every team he’d been on. And _maybe_ in Montreal he even deserved some of those talks (though he still contended that if someone hits on _him_ , their relationship isn’t _his_ problem), but he had been on his best behavior on his new team. Well, _mostly_. The fact that he'd been sat for this game in Anaheim didn't have anything to do with that, he told himself. 

Nonetheless, he found himself standing in the hotel hallway, barefoot and shirtless, being very gently lectured at. His plan was a quick vending machine trip, but he was caught on the way back. By the time he was able to escape, and return to his room, he had no idea how much time had passed, but it was a lot more than he had planned for. He discovered a still lump of person under the blankets on his bed. With a scoff, he threw the bag of Skittles in his hand at the lump, maybe a little too hard.

A scratchy voice came from under the blankets, “ _Ow!_ What the fuck was that for?”

“I guess I _am_ corrupting you.” Nate threw the rest of the snacks in his general direction, but not with as much vigor.

Jack poked his head out from under the covers, “You should do a better job of it, I fell asleep.”

Nate rolled his eyes, launching himself over him, to land hard on the other side of the bed. The only reason Jack didn’t end up on the floor was that he knew the bounce was coming and braced himself. Nate shimmied under the covers, pressing his feet against Jack’s bare leg. He burst out laughing at the resulting squeak. It was a personal victory every time he made him make that sound.

“Fuck! Your feet are cold!” He kicked his feet away as best he could, which wasn’t the least bit successful. “Did you seriously not put _shoes_ on?! Get those popsicles away from me, asshole!”

Nate was laughing hard enough that if Jack had given him even one serious shove, he would have ended up on the floor. Lucky for him, he didn’t. “See, all that _naughty_ language. You must not have heard _any_ of that before I got here.”

Jack rolled his eyes, putting his focus on getting the Skittles packet opened, muttering under his breath, “Yeah, sure, Brendan was PG rated all the time.”

“Who’s Brendan?” Nate asked, popping open his bag of pretzels. “ ‘Cause I don’t think you mean Tanev. I wouldn’t bet you in a fight against Adam.”

“That’s _Brandon_. He’s _Brendan_. And he got traded.” Jack’s tone was too casual to _be_ casual.

“Back to my original question. Who’s Brendan?” Nate stretched out, but never took his eyes off him. Mark hadn’t said anything about _that_ which made him wonder if even _he_ knew about it.

Jack shrugged, “Guy who used to be on the team.”

“ _Uh huh_ ,” Nate rolled his eyes, “So what game should I watch my back during?”

Jack scoffs, “ _None_ , because Brendan wouldn’t care. But anyway, we don’t play him this season. He went EC and we already did those games.”

“He didn’t get traded for me, did he?” Nate smirked at the idea.

Jack groaned, flopping back down to the pillow, “God, your _ego!_ Like we’d trade _him_ for _you_.”

“Oh, fuck you!” He reached over to snatch the bag of Skittles from Jack’s hand. Since he wasn’t expecting it, it was an easy grab, “I don’t buy snacks for assholes.”

“Then you must never buy snacks, because what other kind of guy would end up in your bed?” Jack turned onto his side and propped his head up on his hand.

Nate couldn’t take the combination of that pose, the chirping, and the smirk on his lips. He threw a Skittle at him. Jack tried to move in time to catch it in his mouth, but he missed, and it bounced off his cheek. The thought of being insulted passed over his face quickly before he burst out laughing. It took three more tries before Jack could actually catch one, but the triumphant smile was completely worth the effort.

“So, where’s my reward?” Jack asked, with a grin.

Nate snickered, “The Skittle _was_ your reward.”

Jack rolled his eyes, “Seriously? Move your ass over here and fucking _kiss_ me.”

“ _Language!_ Especially from the innocent lamb that they seem to think you are.” Nate pushed Jack onto his back and moved to brace himself over him, a hand on either side of his head. There was something about looking down on him like that, Nate could see why they thought he was as innocent as they seemed to.

Jack grinned, sliding a hand up into his hair to pull him closer, “ _Some_ of them. _Some_ know better.”

“Like _Brendan?_ ” Nate asked with a raised eyebrow.

Jack’s grin faded a little, “Yeah, like Brendan. I got a hat trick the last time we played the Ducks... Brendan _definitely_ knows better.”

“So, is your _boyfriend_ gonna be pissed about this?” Not that it would be the first time since he was traded that he had to deal with _that_.

Jack scoffed, “ _Not_ my boyfriend. Why do you keep talking about hi—” His eyes went wide, “Did you seriously think I was a _virgin?_ ”

Nate shrugged, but didn’t reply. What he thought or didn’t think was none of his business.

Jack started laughing, “Oh my God! You are _way_ too late for that. I did _USDP_. A good Canadian like you might not know about that but trust me. The only two guys that didn’t fuck at least half the roster were my linemates, and that’s only ‘cause they were too busy fucking each other 24/7.”

Nate started to move off him, but Jack fisted his hands in his hair, holding him where he was. Nate hated feeling embarrassed and he _was_. He had been in the half that had read Jack completely wrong, and now he found himself wondering how _many_ guys found themselves in his bed having been drawn in by that. Sure, he’d played the game himself, plenty of times, but he’d never had the game played on him. And he didn’t like it.

“So, they all think you’re some innocent virgin, but really you’re a slut.” Nate’s tone wasn’t harsh, and he didn’t mean it that way. If he’d thought before he spoke, he might not have phrased it exactly that way, but thinking and getting his hair pulled didn’t often go hand-in-hand.

When Jack laughed, he was glad to hear it. “I don’t know about a _slut_ … I mean _I_ didn’t fall into bed with my linemates after my _third_ game…”

Nate rolled his eyes, “Does everyone know who everyone else is fucking?”

He shrugged, “We share Andrew-duty when Jake pulls that shit, because we’re afraid that if Mark takes him every time, Andrew will eventually punch him. Or Blake will punch Andrew. Either way, it’d be messy.”

“So, you just let the new guy get in the middle of their shit?”

Jack scoffed, “You’re a big boy, you can handle it.”

“How long—”

Jack cut him off, “I don’t want to talk about them. Especially with you up there looking like _that_. I’ve got a more important question.” He balled his fists tighter in his hair.

Between that, and the smirk on Jack’s lips, whatever braincells Nate had left short circuited. “Yeah?” Not his most brilliant reply, but at least he got words out.

With sudden movement that took Nate by surprise, Jack shoved him down to the other side of the bed and landed hard on top of him. Nate sucked in a sharp breath. If he’d been expecting it, he could have stopped him but even then, he probably wouldn’t have. Jack braced himself on his shoulders, giving him a doe-eyed look that was completely unfair, “Do you switch?”

“Fuck yes.” He panted, running his hands over all the bare skin he could reach.

Jack’s smirk grew, “Perfect.”


End file.
